


(my saddle's waiting) ride it

by leesamess



Series: Lawbreakers Multiverse [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A poor excuse of oblivious colleagues to lovers, Alcohol and mentions of drugs, Bit of a teasing, Driving while fingering? Unsafe driving, F/M, Interrupted Orgasms, Masturbation inside a car, Not researched strippers industry, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Side Tendou/Oikawa, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, cockblocked, minor exhibitionism, overconfident Iwachan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leesamess/pseuds/leesamess
Summary: You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand.And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream.Yours, to be even more specific.-Lawbreakers Multiverse.Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Series: Lawbreakers Multiverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148078
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	(my saddle's waiting) ride it

**Author's Note:**

> Brought by your wicked duo degenerates, Saint Dymphna and me: LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠
> 
> You guys know the drill Dymphnasprose started this all with their tempting ways! It was the image of Iwaizumi all oiled up, working in his garage like Channing Tatum that made me cave and do this. Once again, being with Dymph is nothing short of amazing and I LOVE THEM! <3
> 
> This is wayyyy too ploty for something where I just wanted people to bang, but you guys know how I get with Iwaizumi. I’m not totally happy about how this turned out but honestly I have no time to work on it and it has to be out. You guys will realize I went full myself with Reader’s crush on Iwaizumi in this. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Biiig, huuuuuge thanks to both Vanille and Alisson for their help in beta-ing this, you guys are incredible. As always a big thanks to Jess who always helps me when I’m troubled. <3

You check your phone and realize you’re late… again.

You hate, _hate_ , **hate** morning classes, but if you want to be in time for your internship and still have time to study and, well, live, you’re obligated to accept the first class of the day on a Friday. You hate it, and you hate it even more that it’s how you have to end your week but you’ve made peace with it. 

That doesn’t mean you can actually get there in _time_ , reason why you’re twenty minutes late running with your keys and coffee in one hand while you try to balance both your books and your backpack with the other. And when you push the door with your hip, it makes a loud squeaking noise while opening, ruining both your quiet entry and bringing everyone’s eyes on you, _of course_ , because _when_ have you ever been granted a fucking break, right?

“Sorry!” You murmur while trying your best into making a curt bend, and your professor looks over his glasses to you in a very pointed manner but other than that he resumes what he was speaking on before.

You know he hates you being late (especially as a repeat offender) but you’re a fairly participative student and you regularly earn one of his top grades, so you think that buys you some slack -- and leverage. You go to your habitual seat by the wall, and try your best not making any other noises while you set everything in their places and, thankfully, a moment later, you’re able to breathe while in your seat, with your open computer and notes ready. You give yourself about twenty seconds to drink a bit of your coffee and check out where in the topic the professor is lecturing about.

“That’s why Iwaizumi-san will be receiving your papers. I’ll be returning to the next week, and in the time being, he’ll be doing the full TA hours. If you have any questions just ask him and remember to schedule appointments before-hand, if possible.” Your professor states something that makes it clear you lost some important announcement at the beginning of the class and your eyes fly to Iwaizumi in response, but the man is just sitting at his normal place, front class, quietly nodding to the professors’ explanation while his big hands fly over his notepad. 

You sigh, wistfully, and take another sip of your coffee while your eyes thread over his form, clad in loose jeans that still seem tight in those amazing thighs of his and a hoodie that doesn’t do much to hide those incredible arms. Iwaizumi isn’t very tall, but he’s still taller than you and his shoulders are broad enough to engulf anything behind him when you stand too close. God, you _wished_ Iwaizumi would do full TA hours on you _anytime_. He could work you into overtime too, you certainly don’t mind. 

You gulp down the saliva that overflows your mouth with some coffee and leaves another small breath to accompany your thoughts. 

You snicker just a bit and Iwaizumi’s eyes are suddenly on yours and your blood pressure peaks in a second while you choke on your coffee. Your teacher asks if you’re okay and you are obligated to answer _yes_ while trying to shrink into the chair. 

_See_. Incredible track-record.

You manage to not make a complete clown of yourself during class again and even win over some praise from your professor for your contributions in the debate about ethical issues and patient safety. It’s usual that you and Iwaizumi end up interacting with each other’s input in debates but he was quiet today and when you’ve made an addition to his comment about unhelpful patients and mandatory rest all he did was nod and roll his jaw. As if you know what the fuck that means.

You chalk it up to him stressing over being in full TA hours for the week and when the class ends you stay in your seat while finishing typing some notes before you blink and they’re suddenly lost in your brain. When you look up and start packing your things you realize there’s only you and Iwaizumi left in the class and notice he’s looking directly at you, almost as if he was waiting for it.

You don’t think there’s another man who can look so dashing before ten am and with just a small corner lip smile, but hey, you’re not complaining.

“Hey,” he says a one-word greeting and holds his hand up and your heart leaps before you can manage to send a smile his way. _Ah, it’s really unfair how cute he is._

“Hey Iwa,” you greet back in a fair tone even if you feel a bit hot in the face, “You were unusually quiet today.”

He smirks and his hand clasps his neck for a moment while he scratches his hair. “Aa, just busy.” He hooks his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to you while you’re still packing your books. “You lost the warning, right?” 

“Yeah, late. Something important?”

“Nothing big. It’s the deadline for the midterm article, which you lost the explanation to but here--” He extends you his open notepad and you see the notes and instructions there, scribbled in block letters not very neatly, but fairly organized. You look it over briefly, confirm that is nothing different from the normal and bring your phone to take a picture. 

“Thanks, Iwa. Do you need any help with the TA hours?”

“Nah. It’s all fine. I organized my internship last month to have this week off.”

“Oh, smart,” you say as you swing your backpack over your shoulder and pick up your purse and the single book that couldn’t fit with your laptop in it. Iwaizumi makes you nervous. You’re fairly sure it’s because of the massive fucking crush you have on him. “Well, let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks,” you notice that he stays there looking at you for a second more... And then a few seconds more. 

“Is everything okay?

“You’ve been getting to class late a lot,” his eyes turn wide when he realizes what he just blurted out and the small pink dust atop his cheeks could be the thing that ends up _killing_ you. Your brain gets lost in a chant of _CUTECUTECUTE_ and for a moment you resist the urge to clench your books to your chest. “The professor asked me to see if everything was okay.”

“Oh, _ah_ …” You actually force a bit of laugh out at that, surprised and a bit breathless. Dammit, you monitor two classes and then suddenly being a little bit late becomes a crime. “It’s nothing, actually. I’m just not a morning person. And I hate early classes, but I needed to get this one because of my internship, so I’m struggling with the time.”

Iwaizumi nods and even gives you a short smile while you two start walking alongside one another out of the class. “Ah, you should really fix your sleep schedule. You know the drill, eight hours every night.”

“You mean that impossible thing?” You laugh and thank him when he opens the door for you two to pass. Hot and a gentleman, _God really has favorites_. “I’m _trying_ , but it’s easier said than done and I’m something of a night owl.”

“Brat. You’re just on your phone until late,” Iwaizumi snickers and you all but _gasp_ , and before you can say anything he’s signaling to the other side you’re going. “I still have classes, see you on the TA hours?”

“Yeah, I have two days of TA next week,” you manage to squeak out without making a fool of yourself after he calls you a _brat_ and even smiles his way despite the way you feel a sudden heat wave over your body.

“Nice. See you then.”

“Bye Iwa.”

You scurry off the other side and when you turn a corner you stop and do something absolutely ridiculous that is an internal scream with your head against the wall. You press your forehead against the cold tile and breathe about two or three times, all while your mind goes into overheat after a small talk with Iwaizumi Hajime, the _hottest_ , most _amazing_ Teacher Assistant this Physical Therapy course must have ever had. 

You hear someone saying your name while you try to recover and when you look to your side your heart sinks to your stomach as your eyes turn into plates. Hajime is looking at you funny, holding out a small paper to you and probably wondering if you’re okay in the head. _Of course_ it’s him. It wouldn’t be _you_ if this didn’t happen. 

“Ahhh, hi again?” You squeeze out in a weird breathless voice and Iwaizumi’s eyes seem to turn a pretty dark shade while his lips spread in a grin.

“You let this fall.” 

_Sure, of course, you dumbass did._

“Are you okay?”

“Thanks, Iwa. I was _uhhh_ just…” You press your lips because your mind is blank and then God decides to cut you some slack with a momentaneous brilliance. “I forgot an important thing was due tonight and yeah, I was just screaming at myself.”

“Anything I can help with?” 

_Yes. Marry me._ Or just fucking, you’re not picky. 

Your whole face burns and you lower your eyes for a moment because the images assaulting you are just _too much_. Iwaizumi looks just _so good_ up close, all sharp jawline and hard planes on that spiky jet-black hair and green eyes. Jesus Christ, looking like that should be _illegal_.

“No, it’s just something for this bachelorette party I have tonight.” God decides to grace you with some more lying skills and you thank them internally. There’s even a smile on your face. 

Iwaizumi nods away with your explanation.

“Ohh,” He says with a smirk and your heart does a leap. “That’s nice. Give the bride my congrats.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell her.” Then, he extends the paper again and you finally grab it, once again making a fool of yourself to him. “Sorry, thanks for this.” 

Iwaizumi just nods and smiles your way, quickly turning back and leaving after saying goodbye and waving your way. This time you have half a mind to search a bathroom before screaming for real.

* * *

Honestly, you cannot believe where you are right now. _Lawbreakers_. The name is written in a pretty calligraphy font in bright fucking neon that simply demands attention in the dark of night. It’s the final stop of the bachelorette party of your good friend to which you are _late_. From the group text, everyone is at least nicely buzzed and you’ve been laughing with the ridiculous pictures the group of women have been sending you non-stop while calling you a buzzkill. 

As your car pulls into the front of the place, you just can’t help but snort. It’s _cheesy_ , definitely tacky but nice, a use of the western theme that actually plays well. 

Outside there’s a neon cowboy riding a horse and you just… can’t help but be amused. There’s a small line of women waiting even when it’s already late but you walk up front as your friend had told you too, perks of being a member of the VIP entourage of women partying in the allegedly last night for your friend to be free. 

The doorman lets you in quickly and just as you’re passing the threshold a tall, pretty and lean, but built man clad in nothing but a white outfit rolls to your side, offering a flute of sparkling wine from a tray.

“Well, look at that.” The smile he sends you is trained, but charming and you can’t help but smile back. “We truly do have the prettier customers. Can I offer you some champagne? Maybe something _stronger_?”

You’re just bringing your hand up to say no when you stop, muse about how much catching up you’ll have to do with your friends inside and shrugs. “Well, better get a head start, right?”

“Yes!” He congratulates you, standing too close as he brings you a flute and deposits on your fingers, his hand trailing on your pulse for a moment before he lets go. Then, he throws you another charming smile, the mischief reaching his eyes this time. “That’s a good girl~”

You try to hide the way his charm works by letting your mouth fall in a small laugh, but something tells you he catches that either way. That, you think, is what you call a seasoned pleaser.

“Thank you.” 

Your cheeks are heating the tiny bit as you scurry off the corridor to the club insides, following the loud music and increasingly louder screams.

“Enjoy the show!” The man chuckles behind you and you raise your glass in acknowledgment, hurrying inside to do just that. 

Honestly, it’s not what you were expecting. 

As you pass the wooden saloon doors at the end of the corridor, the sound of screaming surrounds you as physical waves, washing through your body in such a high pitch you stumble in your heels. The energy inside makes you unable to not enjoy yourself automatically, surrounded by tables of women and a few groups of men all completely enthralled on the show that’s already happening inside.

For starters, western decoration aside, you were definitely _not_ expecting to see your friend, the bride-to-be, being _grinded_ on stage. 

The strawberry-blonde male is thrusting against the center of your friend's legs, precise and exciting wave-like motions that clearly are making everyone inside, your friend included, lose their minds. He grinds and holds himself up, moves your friend around as if she’s a doll and humps her behind. It looks so sinful and still in perfect beat with the song and for a second your mind just-- short circuits, hand shooting to your mouth as the laughs tip over loud and hearty. Your friend is _burning_ in embarrassment at the way the man is moving and grinding on her, hands almost locked on her body as if she thinks she can’t move or something will just blow up. 

Then again maybe she’s the one who’ll blow up, being so close to such a fucking hot man. You can definitely see how that would make her blow a fuse, completely not used to this kind of thing. 

You manage to stop laughing at your friend losing it on stage and quickly spot the table, the balloons that have been featured in lots of pictures making themselves seen: bright teal things stating “one dick forever”. Every single one dressed in black and with their current bright plastic cowboy hat. It could be worse; if the place wasn’t so fitting with it’s bright lights and mixed decorations ranging from cowboy neon signs and saddles in place of stools.

By the time you manage to walk over amidst the screaming and join in on the girls fun, the showman has finally let your friend go in prol of fishing another happy bride and she looks every bit completely shaken as you’ve thought.

“Hey, baby, you good?” The slit in her white dress is higher, clearly a side effect of the way the man hiked her legs just so… _open_ , and you chuckle at how she huffs a breath out and let herself fall against the cushions, both parts pent up and mortified. 

Well, you’re already liking the place. 

Then, one of the other bridesmaids presses a full plastic flute of champagne to your hand, calls everyone up to a toast and you let yourself fall back into the festivities. Your friend seems to be having a hard time coming back from the heated grinding session in the middle show, to which she excuses herself from the table and reassures everyone that she’s _fine_. Still, you pull her on the side, ask her once again if she’s okay, to which she just explains she needs some air.

God, you understand.

You were about to follow her when another bridesmaid pulled you into a hug, happily chatting about how this place was incredible, and trying to fill you in on the fun you missed by being late. Your eyes accompany your friend for a moment, seeing as she walks a bit clumsy but otherwise fine to the corridor that leads to the bathroom. Well, she would be fine.

The current show ends and the lights glow brighter, finally allowing you to check out the place. The Lawbreakers Club is nice and _full_ ; filled to the brim with groups of women and men around and apparently yours is not the only bachelorette party taking place in the western-themed strip bar. The waiters are wearing skimpy little clothing, the place decorated as a cross-theme of magic mike and an imitation of a western saloon.

Then, before you can even finish the current drink you have in your hands, the lights go down once again while the stage is lightened up in bright neon. You’re all close enough and with an amazing stage view to catch when a very tall, very pretty, brunette who welcomed you earlier comes to the middle of the stage. 

The crowd goes immediately wild as the song is lowered to a simple mumble in the background and the man walks slowly to the center stage, open hands and the devastating smile of someone who knows they’re all that and _more_. 

Bit obnoxious but hey, there’s a literal horde of women screaming for him. You’d say it’s acceptable.

_“Well, well, well, look like we have a full house tonight.”_

The screaming reignites, sounding even louder since they also come from your own table and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Are you guys ready for the next show?” The crowd screams a resonant yes. “Good. Let us make a lot of noise for two of our best, _biggest_ outlaws around.” As the cheers erupted once again, you can actually hear some names being called, all revolving around names with _big_ , pretty or animals thrown around. 

_“Did someone actually scream for Issei Horsecock?”_ You ask the bridesmaid closer to you and both of you laugh when she says yes. _“Oh, wow.”_

“Yes, yes, you know the ones. Now, let’s make our Big Guns flustered with the warm welcome, you know what a _big softie_ he actually is under all that _hard_ , _big_ , _brute_ exterior.” It’s actually enthralling to see Oikawa dealing with the crowd, you can’t help but laugh away at his faces and double meaning. Then he stops, winks at the crowd and goes, “Maybe he just needs a ride. So, ride it, ponies.”

It’s clear the announcement everyone was waiting for, as the crowd loses right there. The lights are once again focused on the stage, dripping low as the music picks up in a sexy beat as two big, broad and athletic men make their ways to the center stage, Oikawa nowhere to be seen anymore. 

You cannot believe your eyes. You blink them once but then become completely unable to tear your vision from the image unfolding in front of you even for a second. The men comes to the front of the stage, holds onto the pole dance and undulates in a sinful, unholy trusting motion that has your mouth watering and he falls backwards with his hand supporting himself as his legs part on the metal pole and he keeps trusting in time with the bass, a honest-to-god mimic of sex that has you swalowing dry and drooling, your body heating up at the simple images that ellicit in your brain. 

He does a twirl in the air, falls in a plank and holds a hand up to hold his cowboy hat all while supporting his body in only one hand. He undulates in thrust motions, twerk his ass in the air before pressing down and takes his hat off his head as a display of strength you never in your mind thought would get you this bothered. 

His jet black hair is short and spiky, mussed by sweat and you immediately licks your lips at the salacious thought of licking it up from his skin. He falls with his back on the floor, start once again to proove just how fucking incredible it would be to ride him and then gets up in one single jump that knocks the air of your lungs. 

You take in all of him as the light catches on his perfect body, wearing nothing more than an open black leather vest with beaten dark jeans and a big, daunting belt buckle and the cowboy hat in his hand. 

And you feel as you have a out of body experience as his face registers in your mind, that mischievous smirk gracing his lips making your whole brain crash into a halt because you recognize that man as no one other than _Iwaizumi Hajime,_ your long-time crush and Teacher Assistant with whom you were just earlier today.

Your eyes are unable to look anywhere but him, completely enthralled by the simplest realization that that single amazing piece of man is actually your long time crush, kind-of-friend and colleague. It feels unreal, impossible, to wrap your head around that piece of information and you’re rendered speechless, mind-blown and enchanted, eyes locked on his glistening muscles, the spanse of his skin on show growing by the minute as he does movements straight out of a wet dream. 

Yours, to be even more specific. 

It’s clear he doesn’t see you with the dimly lit room and the crew of women chanting. You’re sitting dumbfounded, mouth agape and blood reeling enough that your forehead seems like it will explode, but also feeling as if you’re suspended in a haze - as if Iwaizumi’s body undulating on the air as he holds himself on a pole is something of a spell and you’re definitely sucked in by it.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he sees you, as his show’s ending and the lights around the stage start shining once again. It’s painfully clear how Iwaizumi tenses from the realization, his eyes falling wide and curses tipping from his beautiful lips, the top of his cheekbones lighting up as he all but runs from the front of the crowd and in a moment you’re mirroring his embarrassment, face heating at the bizarre situation you’re finding yourself into. 

Your TA is a _stripper_. And a very good, famous one at that. 

What exactly are you supposed to do with this information?

* * *

It’s almost an hour and about three shows later where you’re filling your head pounding by the beat, unable to relax even as delicious men pass through your table and play with your friends. 

You feel tense, paranoid at what exactly has happened and where Iwaizumi may be, stomach turning and unresponsive as you try to sooth it with booze until you give up, rising on unsteady legs. Muscles strained from how long you’ve been sitting still, afraid to look anywhere and be slapped across the room with some other shocking news.

You take a deep breath as you balance yourself once again on your heels and walk to the bathroom for some needed cool-down, latching on the opportunity when another show is already rolling, a hot but unapproachable-looking man with blond hair and streaks on it owning the stage as if it’s his territory.

As you’re turning on the corridor, however, you’re circled by big arms and yanked from the ground, a yelp turning into silence as you take one look around and find dark green eyes boring into yours, a harsh look on Iwaizumi’s face that make you embarrassed at what it does to your guts.

He scurries off with you inside a place that looks like a private room, fairly dark with red lights around and a ominous pole-dance stage in the middle that makes your mind overheat at the images it summons: the man in front of you clad in nothing but a black jeans rolling his hips up into the air as if daring you to take a ride.

Well, shit.

Iwaizumi’s arms leave your sides and you stumble a bit, eyes diverting down as your face burns. You realize he takes that the wrong way when he sounds gruff and pissed. 

“What? Can’t even look at me now?” 

You look up in time to catch his arms crossing around his front. You wish he didn’t do that, as now you have one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen all angry-looking with bulging arms oiled and shining, clad in nothing but removable pants, leather chaps, vest and a black cowboy hat. 

You groan something unintelligible as you lose the ability to speak and Iwaizumi’s expression turns sour, lips pressed so hard it almost seems like he’s pouting, his hard eyes looking anxious and downcast. 

That’s what helps your brain kickstart, completely unable to see Iwaizumi looking remotely sad and acutely aware of how this must be taxing on him.

“Sorry, I-- It’s not _you_ ,” You wince as his eyes center on you, unimpressed, “I mean it! It’s just-- I was caught off guard.”

Iwaizumi makes a humming noise and centers his eyes on you as if he’s waiting for you to keep going but your brain is completely blank, staring at him with wide eyes and burning surprise. You have to make a serious effort to avoid letting your eyes wander his frame.

“So,” you start, unable to handle the silence and Iwaizumi groans, pulling his cowboy hat off to thread fingers over his hair in a nervous display that you’re _sure_ he did not mean to be sexy but ends up being anyway. “I’m not sure what to say here.”

“Shit. What are you even doing here?”

“Bachelorette party,” you answer without missing a beat and he all but groans again, as if just remembering is an actual thing that exists- and probably gives him lots of money if tonight was anything to go by. 

The clear display of his anxiety actually helps you get a bit more at ease, and you can’t help but crackle an awkward smile. “So... you work here.”

“Yes,” Hajime brutal honesty shows he’s regaining his composure. “It’s good money if you work well and the hours are flexible.”

 _Not the only thing that’s flexible._ You bite your lips at the thought to stop the words from actually spilling from your lips.

“I take it you're not public about this?”

“As little as I can considering the pictures and social media. The club is kinda famous, too.”

“I noticed.”

The silence stretches for a moment as Iwaizumi looks around nervously, his stance unmoving. You take a deep breath and sigh, lips falling in an odd, astonished smile. “Wow, Iwa, that’s…”

“What?” He bites back, defensive. You just end up chuckling, long breath falling from your lips as you look at him and can’t help but be once again dumbfolded at how fucking perfect this man is.

“Nothing, it’s just-- I would never expect it. It’s amazing, though. You’re amazing.” You wince at your own words and how telling they are, but carry on despite the burning on your face. “You seemed like a completely different person out there.” 

Definitely not the quiet TA you’re used to. Definitely still completely _gorgeous_.

Your body tenses as your heart does somersaults in your chest, hunger flaring enough that your throat constricts and your face burns once again.

“Don’t you think it's bad?” It comes out a bit strained, his eyes trained on you, tense and _vulnerable_. And you just about fall deeper for him right there. 

“Why? It’s your work.” You try your best smile, and after a little consideration Hajime’s shoulders finally seem to relax, lips jutting up just a bit as he breathes deep.

“No one in the university can know though,” Iwaizumi says quickly, eyes on yours with a little, tiny smirk. “Obvious reasons.”

That makes you giggle.

“Of course. I’ll keep your secret.” You agree in earnest, honest and clear, and this time when you smile at him, your whole body warms at how his eyes fall down to look at it. 

“Good.” His voice goes down a tone, husky and gruff- and making unspeakable things to your already poor state. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Your heart seems to shoot up to your throat, and you try to squeeze words out around it.

“I… uh… _yes_ , I mean, _sure_. It was… _quite_ incredible.”

“Really.” Hajime smirks and you try to swallow your heart before you choke. 

His green eyes stare deeply at your face, drinking the burning on your cheeks, the quick beat of your pulse on your throat, the pursed, wet lips and the way you tremble when he all but takes a step closer. You brace yourself, eyes lifting from the ground to center on him and the sticky, hot sensation spreads through your lower limbs at the burning heat you find there.

“Well, there’s another one to be done.” That tone comes again and you’re forced to press your legs just a tiny bit closer, suddenly aware of the fact you’re both alone in a dark room. He takes another step closer and your eyes fall on his lips, smirk starting to split his face in two, “Stick around.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and Hajime’s eyes turn darker. 

_"Iwa-channn~''_

It's so close it sounds loud from across the half-opened door and Iwaizumi seems to fall back on himself, annoyance furrowing his brows. He takes another deep, heated look on you but tears his eyes away before you can’t say anything.

“Sorry, have to go.”

Your breath leaves you in one go. It feels like you just stepped off a rollercoaster, blown off the ground and slow to catch up. 

“Okay, uh, good show?” 

“It will be,” Hajime’s eyes are warm on you. _Meaningful_. “Watch it all, okay?”

And then he leaves, the brightness from the corridor snapping you from your haze as you suck all the oxygen left in the room and then screams silently against your hands. 

* * *

Iwaizumi feels nervous for the first time since the first time he stepped on stage, about two years ago. It feels like he has something to prove and conquer in this single performance and it doesn’t help that Makki comes running late, smelling of sex and sporting marks that tell just of that, too. But for once Hajime decides he has his own stuff to worry rather than the shit his friends pull.

When they step on stage, his eyes zoom-in on you immediately, something spreading on his skin as he finds your attention centered on him - bulging, enthralled eyes and warm appreciation. 

Hajime smirks. _They haven’t even started yet._

On cue, Mattsun, Makki, Oikawa and Kyoutani slide on their position and Iwaizumi is _delighted_ that your eyes remain on him. 

When the show starts, among screamings and money being waved, he follows the steps nicely, out of habit. Iwaizumi tilts his hat at you and you burn so bright he feels his skin heating at the newfound power. 

His vest is the first to go off and he makes sure to have his hands running around his chest more than once, teasing slide until the leather chaps as he thrusts his hips, waving motion that covers his whole body. 

He circles, back muscles in the spotlight as his hands come up behind his head, holding the cowboy hat snug in his head, ass tight in the black briefs as he keeps the motions and then turns to fall down on a plank. Iwaizumi grinds down on the floor, blinks and smiles at the ladies but his eyes are only searching for _you_. 

He gets up with an elaborate move and puts both his hands on the pole, holding himself up sideways before circling it, dropping and incorporating some break dance Kyoutani teached him. 

Hajime’s hand slid easily with the oil on his skin, slowly planting his thumb under the loops of his leather chaps to the sound of screaming. He feels electricity edge through his skin -- _someone’s_ eyes focused solely on him and the thrill of it it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. Suddenly he understands a bit more about how Oikawa feels with Tendou around. 

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips forward once, snaps his belt off in the air with one pull, making the crowd gasp and scream and the itching on his skin turns south. He watches as your eyes follow the hard planes of his abs and the tight squeeze of his thighs on his leather chaps and then snap back into his face. The fact it’s _you_ only makes it all the more exhilarating.

The choreo is once again on the floor, and he drops to it in a wave motion, hips humping on nothing without faltering, tight ass in the air winning cheers and waves; even so, it’s your silent appraisal that rings the louder.

He gets up again, circles the pole in a charming, teasing manner as he holds the metal bar and grinds on it. Iwaizumi lets his hat on the ground and turns his back to the public in time to snap his pants off in one go, at the same time as the other men on stage, staying in nothing but a ridiculously tight, dark, leather brief. 

When he was first presented to the thing, he hated it and opted to go comando into some shows, which earned him some nice money and was always quite the surprise to the patrons. Now, as his eyes lock on yours and your wicked tongue peaks out to lick your plush lips in nothing but appreciation, Iwaizumi is rendered quite fond of the offending thing -- who’d thought this day would come.

Your eyes are glued to him and it almost hurts Iwaizumi that he can’t go straight to you, bring you on stage with him and glide your hands all over his body. He’s unsure of how to proceed but there’s no chance in hell he’s throwing this shot away. 

He’s been crushing on you for far too long to do that. 

In fact, the dumbfounded look on your eyes is quite endearing, much like all the fumbling and tripping over yourself that he got used to expect every time he sees you. Iwaizumi just assumed you were a bit clumsy and quiet, but then he got to _know_ you and it all blew in his face. 

You were a bit of a dumbass but also beautiful, kind, dedicated and attentive. The crush that started as a endearing feeling quickly escalated into _opressing_ and Iwaizumi was all but rendered stupid around you at all times, firm believer that you never truly looked at him like _that_.

However, as you stare at him unblinking and eager, the picture of hunger in the most delicate predator, Iwaizumi realises he may be wrong and that thought alone is enough to ignite his veins.

Oikawa fishes a lady, pushes her on Kyoutani then does the same with another for Iwaizumi.

He smiles at her, professional, and brings her hands to his chest, his hips drawing circles against her. As her tentative strokes and fondling turn into frantic holds and clawing nails, his eyes can’t help but slide sideways, taking in the way you’re hanging out of every move of her hands. 

_Fuck_ , Iwaizumi _can’t_ get hard. But there’s a clear throbbing threading south at your concentration. He can’t help but wonder if you’re imagining _your_ hands on his body instead of hers; _your_ hips against his as he grinds on hers; _your_ mouth on his biceps when she kisses his trademarked asset, the ones that gave him his stripper name. 

The woman slides several singles around his briefs, not without copping a few and your mouth falls open in an indignated breath. Iwaizumi tries hard to avoid it going to his dick.

He fishes for another woman in the audience as he lets the groups slide more singles not only on his briefs but inside his boots. Iwaizumi pulls one while she’s sitting in the chair, deposits it on the stage and grinds on her enough that the woman is overheated, hands faltering by her sides. Hajime’s eyes search yours once again, drinking, basking in the envy he pinpoints.

_Does that mean you wish to be under him, like that? To feel his body against yours, his hips between your legs, his lower body shoved on your face?_

Hajime ends his routine with this one halfway, unable to let _them_ feel what _you_ are doing to him and then - _finally_ \- he’s free to walk over to your table. Semi-naked, with his boots, hat and slow-rising hard-on.

He’s done this enough times to be able to keep up with the choreo while he’s navigating the tables, hips thrusting and circling, strangers hands sliding on his oiled body to deposit dollars anywhere they can. They’re mostly handsy, few grab his dick and scream, others palm at his thighs and chest. There’s both numbers and dollars being thrown on him but Iwaizumi is used to it - and that’s definitely not his focus tonight.

Iwaizumi stops for a moment at the table before yours. Joining in the fun as Oikawa is happily grinding on his roommate. It gives Hajime a chance to look your way, enough to find you completely enthralled by his body, wide eyes unwavering, mouth open in a breath as your hand fists the flute you’re holding, the perfect depiction of surprise and enchantment and _fuck_ , Iwaizumi is _thrilled_.

When Hajime finally stops in front of you, you’re looking at him as if under a spell; mouth hanging softly as stars shine in your eyes and he can’t be faulted for fisting your hair, pulling you up to meet his chest, even if he’s careful with where he touches you. 

Iwaizumi pretends his lips gliding against the shell of your ear is not a planned thing.

“You’re looking too hard. Are you enjoying the show that much?”

Your lips move without words falling from it and having you speechless all but set him on fire. Iwaizumi thanks every god (and begrudgingly Oikawa) for his expertise in what he’s about to do. His hand slides on your hips, feeling the way you sway with tremors and stop on your back to support you as he bends you backwards. His mouth skims the skin of your neck and dips lower, so his nose can cross over your cleavage, softly caressing the spanse of your collarbones. 

“If you keep looking at me like that I’ll start thinking things, princess. Interesting things, physical things.” Iwaizumi lets his teeth close on the fabric covering your neckline as his eyes look up on yours to find every hint there can possibly be of your warm desire. “Seems like we’re reaching an agreement, too. Do like what you see, hm? Do you want me to do to _you_ the same things I did with _them_?” 

“ _No_ ,” you tell him in a steady tone and Hajime’s eyes shoot up to yours, confused, until you sigh a breath against his face. “I want you to do _more_.”

He groans, pulling you tighter against his chest for you to feel the effect you have on him, choosing the momentum to circle his hips in what can be disguised as performance despite it being anything but.

“You can’t just tell a guy that. I may believe it.” His hands drop on your ass, gripping as he guides your hips to work with his and you all but _melt_ , blown out eyes falling on his mouth.

“I’m hoping so. I’m pretty much using all my courage to tell you this.” Your breathless chuckle all but obliterates Hajime’s thinking and he has to put some distance between your faces before he takes your lips in a kiss. 

There’s a ringing around his ears and he identifies it as the performance’s end approaching. He has to go back on stage to strip naked and his cock is going to give a show of his own tonight. 

“Go wait for me in the corridor, _quick_.” It's a plea and a promise as he forces himself to let go of you and turn on his heels to get back on stage.

Oikawa gives him a hand up back onto the stage, eyes all knowing as they survey the whole _big_ thing going on inside his briefs. 

“Nasty, Iwachan~” His smile is a annoying little thing, but then he slaps Iwaizumi’s ass in encouragement, “Sneak off stage before the end, go, _quick_ , I’ll cover.”

Iwaizumi grunts a thanks and as the boys line up one behind the other, he’s able to lock eyes with you and signal with his head before he dips through the backstage drapes.

You’re not sure what’s the plan when Hajime disappears through the back and your spine immediately shoots up, leaving your friends with a half-assed excuse as your legs carry you towards the corridor that leads to the backstage once you choose neither left or right, but only forward. Your eyes are focused, body overheating as your heart gallops in your chest, clinging to the words Iwaizumi whispered in your ears during his show as it repays again and again over your mind’s eye. 

The door to the backstage is signaled with _nothing_ , the only hint of its location being the in and out of men from it as their shows end and they leave the place to either mingle along the audience or enter a private room for privé little shows. Honestly, if it was for Hajime, you’d blow a hole in your wallet for every single second of his time. 

However, as you’re closing in on the hidden door you start growing strikingly aware of the fact you have no idea how to actually _meet_ him there and having to knock on it makes you feel both silly and self conscious.

Luckly, you don’t have to do anything.

Iwaizumi burst the door open in time to fetch you and drag you inside as you let out a little yelp, and suddenly you’re surrounded by the smell of weed, cigars and sweat along with men; Iwaizumi’s hot, sweety skin is sticky against yours and you have the fleeting thought that maybe that would be off putting to you if you didn't have the all consuming need to drop to your knees and lick it all from his fucking skin.

“Iwa,” leaves you lips for no reason, just for the fact it’s his name and you let your neck fall back against his shoulder, turning your head to finally taste his skin. Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around you in such a way you feel the rumble of his growl and he all but tow you deeper inside.

You can barely get a look around the dimly lit, dirty backstage room before you’re past the messy lounge and into a tight corridor that ends a small, locker-room styled bathroom where Hajime quickly dips inside. 

You get one look at the metal lockers on the side, the two sinks with mirrors upfront and the four bathroom stalls on the left, two on each side before you focus back on Iwaizumi’s jawline, nibbling on whatever you can find and relishing on every little noise that tumbles from his lips. 

Hajime’s arms leave you for one moment, depositing you on unsteady legs so he can turn the lock on the door and by then his hand is burying itself in your hair and closing at your hip, forcefully pulling you to him as his mouth closes around your neck and he proceeds to kiss, bite and suck at every spanse of your skin. 

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this here,” Iwaizumi starts with a gruff voice that makes your center weep, the force of his hands around you enough to render your feet useless as he strides over to the sink, imediatelly hiking you over it with his big hands over your ass and a hard bite at your shoulder as if he’s pinging you as the culprit of his angish. “But I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

He sounds so pained, so raw, that you can’t help but groan, mouth searching his quickly as your hands reach for his hair and shoulder, nails digging on whatever you find to secure your hold on his slippery skin. He tastes of whisky and weed, but it’s the fact that it’s Hajime that renders you intoxicated.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his teeth nibble on your bottom lip, a trail of kisses making their way down so he can bite at your neck, licking it over just so he can suck on it, your eyes rolling back inside your head as your body all but trembles. “I was sure you weren’t interested, _fuck_.” 

That is probably the one thing that could pull you from the haze settling in your brain caused by the fucking _thrill_ that having _Hajime_ kissing and holding you is enough to cause. 

“Are you _insane_?” You whine back at him, tilting your head away from his mouth as your fingers pull at his hair to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, heated and earnest florest-green eyes that have been your demise since day one. “Iwa, there hasn't been a day I _wasn’t_ interested.” 

There’s an edge of surprise on his face, along with a hint of something _soft_ you can’t name and you all but moan at him, unable to form words of just _how_ much you’ve wanted him and _for how long_. So you choose to show him, instead, legs circling his frame as you press your chest against his and hold his neck with both hands to pull him in a kiss that leaves you lightheaded, toes curling on your heels and heat burning through your veins, melting your insides until it spills on your underwear.

A rumble in his chest tells you about the groan he keeps inside and Iwaizumi’s hands take hold of the flesh of your ass and thighs with bruising strength, violent heartbeats making both of your bodies tremble with need. But then he angles himself back, breaks the kiss and curses after one look at your face.

Next thing you know Iwaizumi’s down on his knees between your thighs, holding you open with big hands under your knees and your brain just ups and fries. Your panties are sticking to your drenched folds and there’s no way the flimsy triangle is able to do much to hide you from Hajime’s attentive eyes. He _groans_ , fingers dipping under the sides of your underwear and he pulls it to the side, baring you the best he can.

He doesn’t really say anything past throwing you a burning look, kissing up the inner part of your thighs, and then he’s mouth is on you - tongue lavishing at both sex and fabric, circling your clit with wondrous expertise and licking along your inner lips like they’re about to spill all your secrets.

“Fuck,” slips from you as your head arches back, hitting the wall. “Iwaizumi...” 

Whispered from you that way, his name is the only thing that conveys all of the feelings bubbling on your chest: the glee of the mutual crush, the excitement of being this close, the massive bliss igniting your nerves at his ministrations. If the way Hajime doubles down on his efforts between your legs is any indication - tongue slipping up and down then back up to circle your clit mercilessly - you’d say he agrees.

You feel suspended in time, tense as a tight coil that’ll tear with a single harsh pull. His tongue dances around your cunt as much as he did on stage: perfectly. Deliriously bringing you to a high you’ve aren’t sure you’ve ever tasted. And then he brings his fingers to calmly, slowly massage around your entrance. 

_“Oh fucking christ!_ ” Your burning moan bounces around the empty space loudly and you swear you feel him snickering against your cunt, only you’re way far gone to care. “Haji- _fuck_!” 

Your hand slides over his hair, fingers delighted at how soft they feel and you use your palm to press his face further against your folds. Your hips humping anything they can because staying still feels like an impossible task with the way your blood is boiling inside your veins. 

But then someone is pounding at the door loudly and your eyes snap open as your high slips from you, Iwaizumi’s lips abandoning your sex to throw a nasty glare at the door. 

“C’mon Iwa-chan~” someone calls outside, sounding unbelievably _pleased_ at the interruption. “You know the rules! We need to use the bathroom~” 

“Two minutes!” Iwa snarl back and as the pounding on the door doesn’t come back, you think he got himself a deal. “Fucking _assholes_. Can’t give me _one fucking moment_ when they’re the ones _always_ doing this shit.”

He sounds so pissed it’s actually awfully endearing. Red in the face with swollen lips glistening in a pout, and despite the throbbing on your cunt, you can’t help but laugh. His eyes come back to you and a renewed wave of pleasure curls on your pussy by the clear shift into softness you find there, so you pull him back up standing and make a point of kissing him so hard you’re licking your juices from his chin. 

Two minutes apparently go by awfully fast, as the door is nudged once again. Softly, this time. 

“Fuckers,” Iwa mutters after he breaks the kiss, eyes as daggers aimed at whoever is outside the door. “Give me ten minutes and meet me outside?” You realize by the tone of his voice that Iwaizumi is _nervous_ and your heart does a sickening loop inside your chest as if you needed a heads up of how much you’re gone for him. Your face must do something weird, as his eyes scrunch up and his hands grip on your hips with a tiny bit of strength, pleading. “I just need to change and get my stuff, I’ll be real quick, promise.” 

Jesus Christ, didn’t he _get it_ yet?

“Iwaizumi,” His name sounds gruff past your breathless throat and you see the way his eyes turn steely, bracing for heartbreak. “You could tell me to wait forever, and I’d be dying outside waiting for you.”

You make a point of holding his eyes because it feels like it’s important and you’re thankful for that as you can watch the exact moment Iwaizumi lets a long breath out, eyes warming as his lips descend upon yours - one time, then once again; his fingers drawing soft little patterns over your skin.

“I’ll be outside,” you tell him before someone disturbs the moment between you two and he helps you down the sink, your panties choosing this moment to slide to the floor, showing the fact that all that pulling ended up causing a rip. You choke up a gasp and Iwa _chuckles_ , hand sliding to your bare ass to pat at the plush flesh.

“Well, one less thing in the way.”

Getting out of the bathroom and outside the backroom ends up being the most embarrassing thing about it all, as you’re forced to pass through a horde of almost-naked men that throw you all-knowing grins. The pretty man that welcomed you into the Club is the one with the wickedest grin and you can see by Iwaizumi’s grimace alone that he’s in for a hell of teasing. 

If the hand gripping your hip is anything to go by, you’d doubt he’s paying it half a mind. He leaves you at the door, tells the ones around there to shut it as they watch, and breathlessly promises you he’ll come in a bit before closing the door.

Even so you can still hear the immediate hollering going on inside and you chuckle for a moment, until you try to take a step and your legs betray you, _shaken_. There’s a smile etched to your face that you can barely contain until you’re painfully remembered of the fact you’re _dripping_ between your thighs. That’s all you need for your heart to beat on your face, burning so bright you’re surprised you haven’t melted to the floor.

You’re breathless and antsy as you wait for Iwaizumi to come back, the club visibly emptier after the final performance. Your friends have left already, only waiting around until you came to pick up your purse, all of them tired and drunk and leaving in group after calling enough ubers and making sure you were fine. 

And not without teasing, of course.

God, you were more than fine. But you’re _throbbing_ , uncomfortable wet and empty, increasingly aware of the fact you’re standing there _pantiless_ as the horny fog dissipates a bit in the absence of one Iwaizumi Hajime to _end_ your logic thinking.

You get antsy of waiting around in the bar despite the bartender trying to make nice small-talk and instead trudges over to the corridor, standing there awkwardly fidgeting as if he’s taking hours and not literally a few minutes.

The door opens with an urge and Hajime’s eyes zoom in on you, long strides that only serve to make your body once again acutely aware of it’s poor state, arousal spiking to the point where you press your legs together to help with the feeling. 

But then he’s reaching for you before he’s even really close, and you’re quickly running to him and latching your lips together with urgency. Now that you can kiss him it feels like there’s no point in any other greeting that doesn’t involve his mouth on yours. 

His hair is dripping wet with a recent, clearly quick shower and he’s wearing the same clothes you’re used to see him with day by day and, somehow, that just makes it all _worse_ , a literal groan passing your lips as you reach once again for his lips but this time Iwaizumi stops you with a groan, turning you in his arms so both of you can eagerly trudge out of the Club.

Hajime tries to be mindful of you as he shortens his long strides to be able to accompany yours. You’re balancing yourself to run on heels, laugh bubbling out of your chest at the exhilarating feeling of glee of a mutual crush. Iwaizumi throws you one amused look, sharp smile turning teasing as his hands come to circle your waist, hoist you up and hurry the remaining distance to his car.

“Too slow!” Iwaizumi teases with a grunt and chuckles against your neck, big toothy smile against your skin. “Hurry up!”

“Someone’s eager,” you tease but he’s already rounding his car, pressing you on the side to attach his lips to your neck, soft bites and circling hips that show you _just_ how much that sentence is true.

One of his hands surrounds your neck and his thumb tilts your head up enough for his lips to capture yours, a soft kiss contrasting with the _need_ in his grasp on your hips. 

“I think we’ve waited too long.” 

“ _Yeah_? Who’s fault is that, dumbass?” You nibble on his lips and grind your hips on the impressive burning length that presses on your belly. Iwaizumi chuckles, biting on your neck as his hand slides past your hip to close on your ass. 

“ _Yours_.” 

Your outraged gasp is lost on his lips, passionate kiss blowing your rational thinking with a nuke. Would you ever recover from Iwaizumi Hajime? God, you don’t think so. 

You pull him closer, pressing your chest against him, pressure building once again as your nipples stand to attention. Your leg rakes up on his side as if you’re _not_ on the middle of the street and Iwaizumi lets his hand slide to the underside of your thigh; fingers dipping lower, digits gliding over your drenched slit once before he dips them carefully past the tight ring of your entrance. It’s barely anything, but your mind short-circuits, head falling back against the car.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Iwaizumi sounds anguished, teeth punishing his lips as his eyes bore on yours. His fingers slide deeper inside you and your mouth opens in a silent moan. “I can’t wait to be inside this pussy.”

That ends you, pussy clenching so hard around his barely there fingers it’s painful to feel the remaining emptiness. You puff a hot breath of air on his face, eyes dazed and blood boiling as you tense and throb. 

“ _Iwa_ ,” Your nails press on his skin so hard your own hand hurts, “if you keep doing this we’ll be doing it in the street.”

Something burns in him, as he presses his fingers deeper inside you to watch your eyes fall close and then pulls them all out, quickly opening the door. 

“Get in.”

You obey, having half a mind to wonder if it’s really happening until he’s closing the door and circling the vehicle. “ _Iwa_!” You plead, as somehow it feels like abandonment, your whole being hurting and boiling, a whine in your lips as Hajime slides in the driver's seat and turns the car on, driving it out the curb and down the street as a madman.

“We’re doing this right,” Hajime tells you as he drives, drinking your panting form from the corner of his eyes. His jeans are tight, hint of what awaits you forming a very clear pattern and you feel overheated, _frenzied_ , throbbing with _need_. So as it turns out, you’re far past the point to care. 

You adjust yourself in the seat, legs spreading to allow your hand to reach the appex of your sex as the other closes on a clothed breast. “ _Iwa_ ,” you sigh in bliss as the pressure finally seems to give in just that one tiny bit. His eyes shoot to you and fall comically large at the view, turning hazed in sequence as his cheeks color red.

“God, baby, don’t do this to me,” Iwaizumi grunts, hand adjusting his cock through the jeans as his eyes try to flit between you and the fairly empty streets. 

“I’m not doing anything to you though, I’m doing it to _me._ ” You moan and the car loses balance for a second, sliding to the side and back as you laugh. 

“You’re a fucking _menace_.”

“Try not to kill us, Iwa.” Is all you answer, moan slipping out at the way you let your fingers alleviate the pressure at your clenching center. Iwaizumi looks as if he’s in pain. One of his hands shoots down to hold on your left thigh, bruising strength _delicious_.

“You wanna play dirty, huh? That’s what you want?” The tinge of aggression in his voice makes your pussy throb around your fingers and for a moment it feels like he _knows_. “I can play dirty, baby. I can either make you cum like a _good girl_ or let you hang the whole night like a brat, so what do you want?”

Your voice is nowhere to be found and your eyes are locked on Hajime as if he’s the one who hung the moon and stars. He even has the gal to _smirk_.

“I can be _so good_ , baby, but I’m even better at being bad.”

You skyrocket shamelessly into a little bout of pleasure, a short-lived thing resembling a climax that’s caused by the whiplash of Hajime’s dominance and the pressure bursting inside you as you abuse your own fingers' expertise. 

You tremble on his side, head thrown back with a moan of his name and Hajime curses loudly, hand at your thigh awkwardly reaching your slit to slide over it and push two fingers inside, catching the last of your short-lived climax. His face turns solemn, eyes darkening with hunger as a vein rises in his jaw and a renewed wave of wetness stains his digits.

Those forest-green eyes settle on you as he speeds down the empty street. “I’m going to end you,” Iwaizumi presses deeper and you arch your body, legs falling wider for him as fingers you effortlessly, driving and stretching you on thick digits that make you gasp on your own breath. 

“This is how it’s going to be.” Hajime starts, voice rough and hot. “Once we’re out of this car and private enough, I’m burying myself inside this pretty pussy in one go.” Your whole breath leaves you in one quick breath, eyes falling open as Hajime’s thumb rounds your clit and a third finger starts pushing inside your walls, burning stretch making you delirious as his words take you apart, one by one. 

“Then, I’m fucking you the whole night until you cant even think about a time where I wasn't inside you,” his fingers curve inside your walls, calling motion and upwards thrust that makes your pleasure sparks through your whole body, one hand closing around his wrist as the other locks on a breast. “Until you feel empty without me inside.”

He pulls his hand back as you all but sob, eyes literally welling with tears at the loss of your quickly rising bliss but one look at Hajime has you sobering up, his focused eyes on the street as he hurries down the rest of the way. 

As it ends up, Iwaizumi stays true to his words. 

He presses you up against the door of his apartment while you two are still on the corridor, brings his hands to your thighs and hikes you up against the door, your dress sliding way past your ass as your bare, throbbing pussy glides over his clothed length. Your whole skin feels like a live-wire, hypersensitive and vibrating.

Hajime’s mouth is closed in a bite on your shoulder as he uses his abilities to open his door without interfering with the sinful way you roll your center against his big cock, needy and lost, pleading for him to _just_ f _uck you_. 

When it clicks open, both his hands fly to your ass as he pushes past the door and close it with a bang as he presses you against it. His mouth is back on yours, tongue invading your lips with a groan and hand flying to tear his jeans open and down just enough for his big, hard cock spring free.

"Yes!" You break the kiss to cry at the first touch of his weeping, hot cock against your cunt, the sheer amount of wetness making it slide from your hole to your clit and then down again. 

Hajime sucks a breath to still himself, slowly angles his hips back and let the thick head slide to your entrance with perfect precision, slamming himself half the way inside with one powerful thrust that have his head falling on your shoulder with a blissful groan, your cries of agreement thrown around the air above as you angle your head back. 

Your walls fall open for him brutally, soaking wet and ready but still struggling against the stretch. It burns, his fat cock pulsing inside you and as you clench around his girth you realize he's not even all the way inside. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out and Iwa sighs, fist slamming on the side of the door as he braces himself and rolls his hips, pushing steadily, sheathing his cock inside you slowly. You choke on a breath, suddenly silent, legs kicking out without your brain to rein on it.

" _Jesus_ ," Iwa grunts as he bottoms out, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself back, mind stumbling as every single cell in his body seems overwhelmed by the feeling of reaching _paradise_. “You feel like heaven.”

Hajime tells you mostly because he wants to feel you clench around him and you _do_ , his heart soaring with the delicious high of knowing exactly what makes you tick; but the throbbing of his cock reminds him just how long he’s been forgotten and Iwaizumi adjusts his stance, locks his arms around you and simply mutters, “Now, to fucking you the whole night.”

You skyrocket quicker than ever, few presses and pulls igniting a supernova bliss in your veins, tongue useless as it feels alien in your mouth, brain short-circuiting at his thrusts. You’ve _never_ felt like this and you’re pretty sure you’ll never would, not without Hajime.

You’re so lost you don’t even realize he moves you from the door to the wall, Hajime’s hands grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you to a blistering kiss, the trimmed hair at the base of his cock doing wonders against your clit every time he bottoms out, nestled inside a place you never even felt before. 

You’re so oversensitive, wound up and tense as your pussy holds him as a vice, grunts falling from his lips that make you skin all but burn at the delicious praise. 

As you squeeze “ _Hajime_ ” past your mouth in a painful breath, frenzied eyes searching for his, he soothes you with kisses all over your face. 

“Go ahead, baby.” He tells you with his lips against your skin, “I got you.”

You explode. 

There’s no other way to explain the way your pleasure blows you over, sharpshooter through your veins and short-circuits your brain. It feels like being caught in an ocean wave, unable to swim as it carries you underwater and the tides hold you down, unending twirls that assault you through every side until you’re finally reaching shore, rising above to suck a deep breath.

Hajime is peppering your face with kisses as you settle back inside your skin, blinking hazy eyes to his perfect face with a ridiculous smile that must show just how fucking much you’re _smitten_. But there’s an edge of something painful on his face.

 _“Wow.”_ You breathe and his cock responds inside you with a nod of agreement.

Hajime chuckles, plants a big kiss on your wet lips and tries to smile despite the strain on his face as he calls your name. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Well, when you put it like _that_ ,” you smile dumbly at him, loose and fuzzy around the edges. “Go ahead. Not sure I’ll be of much use, I think I just had a outer body experience.”

“Hmmm,” Hajime smirks, tight around the edges with his throbbing cock buried in your pulsing heat. as he seems pensive “No can’t do, baby.” He rolls his hips for a moment, lecherous noise echoing around the silent flat, then decides to bring you across the short distance to his couch, letting his ass fall on it graceless, cock pressing deeper with the movement. He drinks the little gasp straight from your lips. 

“I think I’ve earned my turn to sit back and relax.” Hajime smiles, predatory, hungry and you decide you just may love him like this. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and _ride it?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I was worried about making Hajime a bit OOC in this. Also, poor Haji... didn't get to... well. Hope you guys liked it! haha <3


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